


A Pale Rider on a Pale Steed

by LadyOfGlaciers



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Gen, Nonbinary Ingrid Brandl Galatea, Other, death imagery, just kinda an idea, kinda ingbert but not really, no beta we die like Glenn, pale rider on a pale horse kinda thing, really short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-15 20:01:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29441586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyOfGlaciers/pseuds/LadyOfGlaciers
Summary: Hubert reflects on how Ingrid brings destruction when they fly.
Relationships: Ingrid Brandl Galatea & Hubert von Vestra, Ingrid Brandl Galatea/Hubert von Vestra
Kudos: 5





	A Pale Rider on a Pale Steed

The smell of ash and death, burning flesh and blood—a symphony of scents the Black Eagle Strike Force had grown all too used to, especially Hubert. Decay was inevitable, especially around the mage—everything withered eventually. With time, everything would be forgotten, as well.

The futile nature of time and history did not deter him from his task, however, eyes scanning the battlefield ahead, waiting for the right moment—there would always be a right moment to strike, to do the most damage, to cripple with the least amount of energy expended. Though, he had to admit, there might not be a need for him to strike, as the crest-bearing knight swooped down from the sky above, leaving nothing but blood in their wake.

Hubert could easily admit the mistake he had made in doubting, even for a second, Her Imperial Majesty’s efforts to recruit the Galatea, for they had proven their loyalty again and again, and upon the battlefield, they were as Death, an avatar of the constant of life—a pale rider upon a pale pegasus, the blood splattering their face as they dove in graceful arcs, splitting the earth with the relic they clutched. Hades itself seemed to spill forth, spewing flames as it devoured those unfortunate enough to not be stricken first by Luin.

It was almost poetry, the ease in which their movements brought the end to their enemies, and their brilliant tactic of wrenching the ground open in chasms of fire and lava, well, it provided a battlefield advantage that often ruined the plans of the Gautier trying so desperately to keep the Kingdon in tact—strategies that fell through, because a constant in those plans had been stolen from the dying embers of the Kingdom. 

Hubert von Vestra would never admit admiration for the blonde knight who carried death like a shroud, even against those they had been raised with—but perhaps, in the twisted void of his heart, there was a flicker of such a feeling for the Pale Rider of the Empire, Ingrid Brandl Galatea.

Perhaps time would not take all—perhaps in millennia, when this war was nothing but dust and, if they’re lucky, a bygone line in a history book, the image of death on a pale steed, the underworld following in it’s wake, would remain…-though their name would be forever lost.


End file.
